


Of First Meetings And Beginnings

by WhatIsExistence



Series: Soulmate AU go brrrr [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Found Family, Gen, Not Beta Read, Not shipping - Freeform, POV Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Technoblade-centric (Video Blogging RPF), no beta we die like men, no beta we die like wilbur soot on the 16th, sleepy bois inc - Freeform, soulmates are a choice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:21:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29148879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatIsExistence/pseuds/WhatIsExistence
Summary: Technoblade was five and smiles appeared on his right arm in a swarm of neon green.Technoblade was twelve and had no idea how his entire right shoulder had been dyed dark forest green.Technoblade was eighteen and he didn’t know how to feel about the words scrawled across his calf in deep royal purple.Technoblade was twenty and regretting all of his life decisions as red ink joined the pig face on his ankle.Technoblade had four soulmates and he didn't give a shit about any of them.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), No Romantic Relationship(s), Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Zak Ahmed & Technoblade
Series: Soulmate AU go brrrr [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112243
Comments: 7
Kudos: 522
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	Of First Meetings And Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> I went through burnout like two separate times while writing this, so I have no idea how good it'll be, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Technoblade was five and smiles appeared on his right arm in a swarm of neon green. His classmate pointed it out with an excited squeal that only a young child could make. 

The teacher broke off mid-sentence to see what the fuss was about and when her eyes landed on his arm, she looked delighted. She paused her lesson to explain that that meant that one of his soulmate bonds had been formed. He understood every third word but nodded along like it made sense. He didn’t really understand but he doubted it really mattered. If it were truly important, his parents would have told him about it, right? 

After a long-winded explanation, she handed Techno a felt pen to write to his ‘soulmate’ (as she called it) and returned to teaching them the names of colours. 

Techno watched the smile army expand, and after a few moments of observance, he crammed the words, ‘ nice smiley faces ’ into a gap between them. A few seconds later, the word, ‘ thanks ’ appeared. It was soon followed by, ‘ its nice to meet you ’. Techno didn’t know what to say to that, so he just wrote back, ‘ you too ’, because that was the polite thing to do. After a moment of hesitation, he added a smiley face at the end. His ‘soulmate’ seemed to be a fan of those.

He didn’t understand the term soulmate. It didn’t make sense. Souls weren’t real, and what the hell was a ‘mate’? His dad sometimes called his friends that, so did it mean friend? He made up his mind to ask his parents about it, and for now, he’d simply refer to this mysterious higher power who seemed to manifest in magical ink as Smile. 

Techno didn’t quite trust the whole soulmate thing. It seemed very unlikely, if you asked him. Another person who could write and draw on your skin, with no choice on your part? He didn’t like the sound of it. Who knew what they’d do. He didn’t trust this stranger as far as he could throw them, and as he was a five-year-old, he doubted that that was very far. Why should he? He knew nothing about them.

Techno knew everything about Smile. Over the course of seven years, the two had grown inseparably close. He considered them akin to a sibling, at this point. But when they asked for information about who he was, he didn’t know how to reply. 

Sure, he knew this person, but not in the normal way. He knew that they were terrified of thunderstorms and that the smell of coffee had once made them throw up, but he didn’t know what decade they were born in or what continent they lived in. And besides. They existed solely in the space on his right arm. How could he trust that moving their friendship outside of that realm wouldn’t just break it? How could he trust this person, whose only connection to him was a shaky magical bond, of which science could barely make sense of? 

He couldn’t, so he didn’t.

  
  


Technoblade was twelve and had no idea how his entire right shoulder had been dyed dark forest green. He scrubbed furiously at it, desperate to get the colour go away but it wouldn’t budge. He must have scraped off at least three layers of skin but it was still present, as vibrant as ever. He had no idea how it had gotten there but that didn’t change the fact that it was, and apparently, it was there to stay.

Just when he thought all hope was lost and he’d never get the colour out, it started to wash away and vanish, as if invisible water was erasing it. He was too relieved to question the miraculous event or wonder why his shoulder had suddenly turned green. 

After he’d gotten over the shock and panic, he turned his mind to figuring out an explanation for this phenomenon. It didn’t take long for him to land on an answer: soulmates. His second soulmate had somehow covered their  _ entire shoulder _ in ink. He had no idea how and quite frankly, he was a little pissed off. He really didn’t need to almost have a heart attack ten minutes before he was supposed to leave for school, and he definitely didn’t need to be late and get detention because he was trying to get rid of it. So communicating with his newfound soulmate wasn’t very high on his to-do list. 

Two days later, he finally got around to introducing himself, and did so with a simple, ‘ I can’t believe you drew on your whole shoulder. Thanks for that ’.

Writing on his shoulder and collarbone was awkward and by the end of it, his wrist was aching from bending it in such an uncomfortable position. None of it helped improve his frustration.

When he woke up in the morning, he found the words, ‘ Hello, it’s nice to meet you. And sorry about that, I was painting my wall and the paint spilt onto me ’ awkwardly scrawled underneath his message.

Well, that explained how the green had covered so much skin. 

He was slightly mollified by the apology, which had coincidentally set his curiosity alight. Why would his soulmate be  _ painting walls _ ? He couldn’t imagine doing that, and this was his first clue that his soulmate was far older than he was. He managed to piece together other scraps of information, such as the fact that they were not in the same time zone (from the other's sleep schedule) and that they were in their early twenties (from their comments about university). 

Unlike Smile, Painter made no attempt to figure out his identity, something they were unspeakably grateful for. Maybe it was that - that security blanket, that feeling of existing in a realm where nothing else could touch them - that made them trust Painter so quickly. Or maybe it was their maturity that was the thing to set Techno at ease, combined with the fact that they never used it as an excuse to treat him like lesser. Either way, over the course of a few years, they formed an unspoken agreement that they did not speak of finding each other and nor did they make any attempts to, which made it so easy to let scraps of priceless information slip. Far easier than it was with Smile. 

  
  


Technoblade was eighteen and he didn’t know how to feel about the words scrawled across his calf in deep royal purple. He was feeling a lot of emotions: concern (which didn’t make sense, he didn’t even  _ know _ the dude), worry (very justified, in his opinion), confusion (after all, who would write that on their leg?), anger (he felt that he had the right to be pissed off, for a multitude of reasons), and surprisingly, betrayal (again - he didn’t know them. Why did he feel like they owed him common decency? They were their own person - a person he didn’t know, he reminded himself. If they wanted to be a piece of shit, who was he to stop them?). He read the words for the upteenth time, still as confused and conflicted as before. 

He reread the sentences and they left an uncomfortable feeling in his gut.

‘ Left on seen, another visit to your facebook gallery ’

‘ this time not to masturbate, but instead to appreciate ’

‘ something no man could do as well as i can, something that shouldn’t be for free ’

He honestly had no idea what to make of them. Were they supposed to be a joke? Had someone else written them on his soulmate? 

They sounded like song lyrics or poetry. He didn’t know what person would write a poem like that.

He was apprehensive to make contact with this soulmate but he also didn’t want that to stay on his leg. In the peak of summer, jeans were synonymous with torture, and the last thing he wanted was for that to be on full display. Especially without context. God, did he even want to know the context?

He eventually gave in though because if his soulmate was an asshole, he wanted to at least know it. 

‘ ...Do I need to get a restraining order? ’

It seemed an appropriate response.

Techno was saved from pretending his soulmate didn’t exist for the rest of his life with their hurried response and explanation that it was simply the lyrics for a satirical song they were writing. He accepted it with a spark of curiosity and confusion. 

‘ Why did you write your lyrics on your leg? ’ he asked. 

His soulmate replied with, ‘ Because I ran out of space on my arm ’

Which simply left Techno wondering why they didn’t just write it on paper. 

  
  


Technoblade was nineteen and he really hadn’t thought he’d find out one of his soulmate's names when he went to class that day, but yet, here he was. Stunned, he stared at his classmate, still trying to process what she’d said. The words echoed in his ears, bouncing off the walls of his brain but not sinking it. 

“What?” He heard himself say from across an ocean.

“I said, are you also a fan of Wilbur’s music?” She asked, frowning slightly. “You know, Wilbur? From Soot House? The guy who wrote the song you’re singing?”

Her words chased each other around his head. Wilbur, Soot House, song he wrote - he hadn’t even realised he’d been singing it under his breath. 

“Also, that’s not the proper tune,” She informed him, very matter of factly. He was barely listening. He was a million miles away, in a place where nothing existed except for the words on his leg, which were suddenly burning. He swore he could feel them searing into his skin. In the back of his mind, a part of him whispered, ‘yeah, no shit that’s not the tune. I’ve never heard the song, how could I possibly know what it sounds like?’

How could he possibly know what the tune was when he’d only ever read the lyrics? The song might as well have been a poem; the only reason he knew otherwise was Songbird’s word, which they gave as fact. Or, Techno supposed,  _ he _ gave as fact, if his classmate could be believed. 

She seemed to pick up on the fact that he wasn’t listening and returned to note-taking with a slightly amused huff. The sound echoed in his brain minutes after it had occurred and it was that which dragged him back into his body. 

He stared blankly down at his laptop screen, still struggling to process this information. He had no idea how to proceed. He felt like his entire world had been tipped upside down.

His soulmates lived in a dimension separate from his own. They did not coexist; they couldn’t. And now that they were, he felt like his entire being was shutting down. The information had jammed itself into his gears and churned them to a grinding halt, full of the screech of tearing metal. 

And he was terrified. 

And he was completely and utterly terrified. 

Oh. So that’s what his soulmate looked like, he thought numbly as he stared at a picture of him. 

As he typed ‘Soothouse’ into youtube, he felt like he was watching a car crash. It was horrific and could lead to nothing good, but he couldn’t turn away.

He watched video after video, chasing down a rabbit hole of his soulmate’s voice. It felt addictive. It felt like a mistake. It felt like betrayal (betrayal of who, he didn’t know). But he couldn’t stop. And he didn’t know why (that was a complete and utter lie. He knew exactly why). 

His heart ached as he listened to his soulmate- to Wilbur - talk. It  _ hurt _ . It was early in the morning when he was finally brought to a stop. It wasn’t his own exhaustion or the human limitations of his body that did it either; it was the link in the description of one of the videos to all the members’ twitters. Including Wilbur’s. 

He almost clicked on it. Almost. Out of a thousand other timelines, he clicked on it in nine hundred and ninety-nine of them. But not in this one. In this one, he didn’t. Not yet. He was too much of a coward for that. Too scared to lose something that he hadn’t even realised he wanted until now. 

His fingers curled around his knee, digging in painfully as he fought down a strangled gasp.  _ Shit _ . This wasn’t part of the plan. None of this was part of the fucking plan. He wasn’t meant to find out who his soulmates were because if he found out who his soulmates were then- Then they existed in a place outside of his mind and his skin. 

Then they were real. Then the possibility of losing them was real. 

And he couldn’t lose them. 

Not Smile. 

Not Painter.

Not Songbird - not Wilbur.

He couldn’t lose them. 

He deleted the window and shut down his computer. 

  
  


Technoblade was nineteen and Philza Minecraft was laughing. He was glad. He jumped around the Minecraft Monday lobby, grinning after their victory. It felt good. 

“We completely wrecked them,” Phil laughed. Techno made a noise of agreement. 

He watched his chat zoom by, filled with congratulations and excitement at how much they had won by. He had no doubt in his mind that if it wasn’t for the wave of ecstasy that he was riding, he wouldn’t have said it.

“I wonder what my soulmates would think about me destroying in Minecraft Monday,” He laughed.

“Write to them,” Phil suggested thoughtlessly. So Techno did. He grabbed a pen and scrawled messages to all three of his soulmates, informing them of how he’d just obliterated a video game contest - the info block wouldn’t let the name ‘Minecraft Monday’ through, so he kept it vague. When he was writing and relaying what he’d written to chat, the actions didn’t seem important. He wrote to his soulmates all the time. It wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t of note. Nothing would come of it.

Dear god, was he wrong. It only took a minute for both their chats to start screaming. It took a little longer for them to get sense out of them. 

It was Phil that finally managed to translate it to something comprehensible. When he did, his words trailed off into a dead end and for a short while, static was the only thing being transmitted to Techno. He broke the silence with a confused, “Phil? Phil, what are they talking about?”

“They’re… Techno what did you write to your soulmate again?”

“I wrote to them all saying that, ‘I just won a video game tournament, are you proud of me?’”

If he’d been watching Phil’s stream, he would have seen him tug on the collar of his shirt as he craned his neck to read the pink text printed across his collarbone. Techno would have written the message on his shoulder, like he usually did, but it was cluttered with a still on-going conversation that he didn’t want to make even more chaotic, so the words had been accidentally crammed into the only place where they could be read by chat. To this day, Techno still didn’t know if that was something he regretted. 

“Techno… I think we’re soulmates,” Phil told him slowly. 

To say Techno’s brain short-circuited would be an understatement. His brain didn’t short circuit; (insert some bullshit metaphor). 

Reacting purely on instinct and his fight or flight reflex, he shut down his stream and disconnected from the call. 

Looking back, it was a shitty thing to do. He was throwing Phil under the bus, leaving him to deal with the wolves entirely alone. But in that moment, he couldn’t have cared less.

Phil dmed him afterwards. He expected it. At that point, the guilt at leaving so abruptly had set in, and it was that which forced his hand in replying. 

Phil asked if he’d be willing to hop into a call. It wasn’t like Techno could refuse. 

“Hey, Techno,” Phil said. It was full of unsaid things and Techno did not want to hear any of them. He knew he wouldn’t get a choice though.

“Hallo,” He responded. 

Philza didn’t say anything about soulmates; instead, he asked if he wanted to play some Hypixel. It was a curveball, one that Techno had no hope of dodging. The impact left him stunned and it took him a while to even say, “Sure.”

Phil didn’t question it. He didn’t question any of it. 

They hopped from minigame to minigame for almost three hours and not once were any mention of soulmates or the events of the stream brought up. Techno kept expecting it to. Each time a silence stretched onwards for a fraction of a second too long, he expected it to be broken with a comment on that. Each time Phil cleared his throat, he expected it to be in preparation for broaching that subject. Each time his friend said, “Hey, Techno,” he expected it to be the start of a sentence to do with soulmates. But it wasn’t. It never was. One hundred and seventy-two minutes elapsed in each other’s company but not a single one of them was dedicated to a conversation about soulmates. 

Techno couldn’t have been more grateful. 

He was starting to see how Phil and Painter were the same person. 

As they were saying their goodbyes and Techno was contemplating what he’d have for dinner out loud, Phil finally brought up the elephant in the room that he’d begun to think they’d both forgotten about. 

“If you had had the choice, you wouldn’t have chosen to figure out that we were soulmates, would you?” He said it like it was a question but they both knew it was a statement. If it had come out of anyone else’s mouth Techno would have thought that it was judgmental. But it came out of Phil’s mouth - out of Painter’s mouth - so it wasn’t. It was quiet understanding and acceptance. 

Techno did not believe in soulmates - and he still doesn’t - but in that moment, he found himself thinking that maybe there was something to this soulmate business after all. He quickly discarded the thought; it was a silly one. But still. Maybe it wasn’t all bad that he and Phil had made that connection. 

  
  


Technoblade was twenty and he had to tell Wilbur. He knew he did. He was on the dude’s SMP, for fuck’s sake. He’d known for almost a year that they were soulmates and he still hadn’t told him. 

He wondered if Wilbur would be upset. If he’d feel betrayed or hurt that Techno had withheld that information. He mentioned them finding each other enough - not often, but enough - that Techno was anxious about that potential reaction. Was mildly terrified that telling him would just result in him losing him. 

Phil said that that wouldn’t happen. He said that Wilbur might be a little annoyed when he learnt of just how long Techno had kept that information to himself but he wouldn’t go so far as to  _ cut him out of his life _ . Not even close. 

Usually, Techno trusted Phil with- well, maybe not his life, but close enough to it, but though he was sure his friend was right, he had trouble believing it. 

But that didn’t matter because he was  _ going to tell Wilbur _ . No matter what. He was going to. 

So he collected his courage and joined Wilbur’s call and said hi and did all the polite, human greetings that were required of him and went to ask if he could talk to him about something- And the words jammed in his throat.

“Techno?” Wilbur asked. “You good?”

Oh god, he couldn’t do this.

He left the VC and fired off a DM to Wilbur, saying, ‘we’re soulmates btw’, before closing discord. 

He’d deal with it in the morning.

He didn’t want to deal with it. He really, really, really didn’t want to deal with it. But he had thirteen messages from Wilbur and a missed call and his entire left leg was covered in purple text. So it wasn’t like he could ignore it. 

He opened their DMs and scanned through what the other had sent him.

‘Wait, what?’

‘Techno, what do you mean we’re soulmates?’

‘ _ What do you mean we’re soulmates _ ’

‘Techno’

‘TECHNO’

‘Techno, what are you talking about’

‘You can’t just say that and then dip’

‘TECHNO’

‘Techno, I swear to god’

‘Where is the explanation’

‘Where is the context’

‘Are you seriously fucking ghosting me right now?’

‘Dude’

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitant to say anything. It was odd. He knew Wilbur and at the same time, he didn’t. He’d talked with him for two years and yet he’d only met him a month ago, if that. 

And he was scared.

He said he wasn’t but he was.

He was scared of losing people and of things not living up to expectations and he was scared of caring for someone this much. It hurt. It physically hurt. And he was scared. He much preferred when he simply didn’t give a shit about soulmates. There was a lot less on the line then. A lot less at stake. 

He didn’t like this feeling of someone else being in control of his future. He wanted it gone. He wanted to burn it, to turn it to ashes, to let them sift through his fingers and coat the ground in grey. 

He didn’t want to be scared.

He wished he’d never told Wilbur. He wished he’d had the sense to keep it to himself, like he had for the past year. What had made him think that this could ever be a good idea?

Phil.

Phil had made him think that this was a good idea.

When he and Phil had learnt that they were soulmates, it hadn’t been so bad. If anything, it had made things better. So maybe, that logic would apply to his other soulmates.

God damnit, he was an idiot. 

WIlbur wasn’t Phil. Wilbur wasn’t fucking Phil. And Techno was so fucking screwed. 

At that moment, his discord dinged with an incoming message from Wilbur and like the fool he was, he looked up to read it on instinct.

**Wilbur:**

‘Techno, I can see you’re online’

He was so fucking screwed.

Techno lent back in his chair, keeping his eyes locked on the message. A second one followed it.

‘Are you okay?

He had to answer it. He had to. 

‘Yeah, I’m fine’, He replied. At this point, he didn’t even know if it was a lie or not. 

‘I went to bed before I could answer your messages’

**Wilbur:**

‘Oh, okay’

‘That’s fine’

‘I was just freaking out’

‘So…’

‘We’re soulmates?’

And there it was. 

**Techno:**

‘Yeah’

‘We are’

Wilbur asked how he found out and he saw no point in lying. Not now. 

He told him about how he’d been singing the lyrics to one of Wilbur’s songs under his breath in class and one of his classmates had picked up on it. He kept the exact date of his discovery to himself. Wilbur didn’t need to know how long he’d looked over these cards and not shared them. He didn't need to know how  Techno’s hands were still shaking, even when it had all finally been said.

  
  


Technoblade was twenty and regretting all of his life decisions as red ink joined the pig face on his ankle. It was a joke. It was supposed to be a joke. A forfeit. Something dumb he did for a bet. It was not supposed to be how he met one of his fucking soulmates. 

Techno stared down at the words written next to the pig ‘tattoo’ he’d done and contemplated uprooting his life and escaping to live in the woods until the end of time, far away from any kind of civilisation. 

Of all the possible ways,  _ this _ had to be how he met his soulmate? He groaned. Of  _ course _ it was. Disgruntled with embarrassment, he huffed and leaned back in his chair. At least it wasn’t as bad as how he’d first met Wilbur, he rationalised. At least he hadn’t accidentally made his soulmate think he was an incel or something like that. That thought soothed him a little. 

He stretched, a yawn forcing its way out. He could feel his joints pop after nearly two hours of streaming. He rubbed his sore throat; maybe screaming so much hadn’t been a good idea. He glanced at his empty glass and resolved to get some water. Standing up would also do him so good, so it was a win-win.

“Hey, Techno, how’s the tattoo,” Skeppy laughed gloatingly. Techno was sure he was grinning maniacally on the other end of the call. 

He broke off his peaceful train of thought to glare at the monitor. If they’d been in person, he would have flipped his friend off. 

“I can’t believe you made me draw that on my ankle in  _ permanent marker _ . You could have had the decency to at least let me do it on normal pen,” He complained. He didn’t really care all that much, though he dreaded having to explain to his soulmate what the fuck the pig face was about. He hoped they wouldn’t turn it into a thing, like he’d done with Smile’s smiley faces, way back when he was a little kid. He supposed he’d deserve it if this one did. Karma, and all that.

He stared down at his foot, the black pig face - though really, it was more a circle with a few dots and ovals added on, than anything else - peeking out from his pant leg. With a jolt, he realised that there was a possibility that his explanation might not be allowed past the info block. He frowned. No, no, surely that information would be allowed through. Wilbur had been able to explain away the.. ah.. off-putting lyrics he’d scrawled on both their legs, so surely he’d be allowed to say that it was just something he’d been forced to do as a forfeit to a bet. And hey, if the info block prevented him from explaining what exactly he’d lost at… then, well, that was just a bonus. 

“You didn’t have to agree to it,” Skeppy laughed. 

“I thought I’d win!” Techno cried. “It was so easy!”

“Yeah, yeah it was,” Skeppy cackled. “ _ And you lost _ . The mighty Technoblade, four-time winner of Minecraft Monday, the almighty potato farmer,  _ holder of one of the highest Bedwars winstreaks _ : felled by the challenge of winning three games of Bedwars.”

Techno rolled his eyes at Skeppy’s mirth. 

“Yeah, yeah. We get it, I’m bad. I can’t 1v20 three times in a row, I’m so  _ trash _ .”

“It was not a 1v20! It was more like a 1v10, and they weren’t  _ all  _ targeting you!”   
“What do you  _ mean _ they weren’t all targeting me!” He cried. “You literally bribed them all to target me!”

“Yeah, I did,” Skeppy cackled. Techno scoffed and leaned back in his chair.

“All my fans are gonna leave me now,” He joked. “‘Cause I couldn’t win three games of Bedwars while being targeted by everyone.”

“Your career’s over,” Skeppy agreed. 

Techno stifled another yawn and excused himself, taking his glass with him. The crisp water of the tap filled the cup, and he stood in the empty kitchen, looking out at the dark night. There was an odd feeling in his chest. He didn’t know how to explain it. 

He took a sip of the water, as if that could wash away the inexplicable emotion. Needless to say, it didn’t. 

He walked back to his room and sat down at his desk, slipping his headphones on. Skeppy was silent, probably not realising he had returned.

The feeling was still there, humming away in his chest. It made him feel light; like helium had been pumped into him. With a flicker of surprise, he realised the emotion was  _ happiness _ .

Well, not quite happiness. More a mixture of elation and excitement. 

Huh. That was a new reaction to meeting a soulmate. 

“Techno? Are you back yet?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” He said, snapping his attention back to the monitor. “I’m back. Just thinking.”

“Really? You have the capability to do that?” 

He rolled his eyes at Skeppy’s attempt at a joke. Silence replaced their previous banter and Techno sat there, mulling over his thoughts with the faint click-clack of Skeppy typing in the background. 

He’d never been particularly invested in soulmates. Sure, he loved the friends he’d made through the connection to hell and back, but that didn’t come from the status they shared. He didn’t particularly care for the instant attachment some of his friends spoke of. It didn’t quite make sense in his mind. How could you love someone just because they could write on your skin? 

So this excitement was foreign to him. It wasn’t something he was used to.

He thought of when he’d talked to Painter for the first time. It had all been tinged with annoyance and frustration, left over from the stress of getting detention and being late to class thanks to them. His first conversation with Wilbur had been filled with apprehension and accusation, no room for excitement when he was sure his soulmate would just disappoint him greatly by the end. Speaking to Smile hadn’t possessed the same negativity that the others’ had but it had also held no expectations. It hadn't been a good or a bad thing; it just had been. 

The previous encounters had all been so unlike this time, where despite his stances and opinions and conscious choices and knowledge, his subconscious seemed hellbent on being thrilled to meet his final soulmate.

“You good Techno? You’re being very quiet,” Skeppy commented. Techno’s eyes flickered up to the screen and hesitated over a response for a few seconds. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

“What about?”

“...My soulmate bond activated.”

There was a moment of silence as the information hung in the static connecting them. Then Skeppy burst into laughter.

“You’re joking!” He cried, beside himself with mirth. “No way it activated! Not with the pig tattoo!”

Techno shook his head. 

“You suck. You are the worst.”

Skeppy kept laughing. 

This went on for a while and Techno just sat there, bemoaning his lack of friends who didn’t laugh at his pain. In all seriousness though, he didn’t mind it. It helped take the edge off of the gravity of the situation. Treating it as if it wasn’t something to lionize was how he usually operated, and he was grateful for the familiarity. 

“What did they write, anyway?” Skeppy questioned once he’d calmed down. 

“They wrote, ‘Nice pig tattoo, bitch’,” He recited, as deadpan as he could. And then Skeppy was off again, bursting into roaring, raucous laughter. Despite himself, Techno also contributed a few snickers. How could he not? 

“Oh, that’s amazing,” Skeppy declared. “I love your soulmate Techno. They are very obviously the superior one.”

“But we’ve literally met Wil,” Techno protested. “How can they be better than someone we’ve literally  _ talked _ to?”

“I don’t make the rules, man.”

“You say that, but it seems like you do. Also, hey, I need your… opinion, on something.”

“Oh yeah, sure, what’s up?” Skeppy asked, slipping out of the joking mood into a serious one at Techno’s tone. 

“So… you know how I usually don’t give a shit about meeting my soulmates?”

“Yeah,” Skeppy replied with a snort.

“Well… for some reason, my brain has decided to go, ‘weee, you’re meeting soulmate! So fun, so cool, this is the best day of your life’. And I can’t stop being excited about it. And I have no idea why.”

“You’re the only person I know who would complain about being excited to meet their soulmate,” Skeppy said, his voice laced with amusement. 

“That’s not helpful!” 

“What do you want from me?!” Skeppy retorted. 

“An explanation, advice, I don’t know! This isn’t a normal reaction for me and I can’t understand it!”

“I dunno, I can’t see inside your subconsciousness.! But if you want my best guess, it might be because your other soulmates are all pretty cool, so maybe you’ve begun having, like, expectations for this one. What a shocker! Since your past experience with the others has been good, you probably expect this one to also be, so you’re excited. I don’t know, does it matter?”

The moment he said his theory, Techno knew Skeppy was right. And  _ fuck _ . That wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to expect good things from his soulmate, at least, not off the bat. That just left so much room for disappointment. Far too much room for Techno’s liking. 

“Techno, you know you’re allowed to be excited about your soulmates, right? It’s a pretty normal thing. I know I’m not the expert on this, as I don’t have any, but I know enough to say with certainty that you’re allowed to be happy about this. Most people are.”

“Yeah, it’s just… I don’t.. I don’t want something that I can’t control to decide who’s important to me.”

He could practically hear Skeppy’s frown.

“Techno, are you friends with Wilbur because your soulmates?”

“Well, kinda-”

“I don’t mean were you brought together by your soulmate bond, I mean do you care about him because you’re soulmates?”

“No, of course not.”

It was an easy answer. Effortless, even. 

“Then nothing’s controlling you. You’re making your own decisions. How are soulmates different from just meeting someone online? Or being classmates? We’re forced together with other people all the time, that doesn’t mean whether we care about them is out of our control. You don’t have to give a shit about any of your soulmates, Techno, but it’s okay if you do. It’s normal to care about people, even strangers. It’s part of being human, pig boy. There’s no shame in that.”

  
  


Technoblade was twenty-one and he’d done this all before. He’d had this conversation before. This wasn’t new. 

Dream said hi and he said hi back and silence rang in the VC and Techno felt a wave of deja vu crash over him. He’d done this all before. 

Then Dream asked if they were soulmates and the feeling of repetition was swiftly killed.

He was wrong; he had never danced this particular dance before. Not with Dream, who threw everything off-kilter without thought or hesitation. Who cast everything to the wind on a mere whim. He’d known him for sixteen years and yet he still couldn’t predict this man. Maybe that was for the best.

  
  


Technoblade was twenty-two and sitting in a plane seat, an hour away from landing in England. An hour away from seeing Wilbur in person for the first time. A day away from seeing Phil and Tommy in person for the first time. 

To his own surprise, he wasn’t scared. He was elated. He was excited. There was not a trace of nervousness in him. 

The plane landed and he walked out the gate and Wilbur was waiting for him, blinking blearily at the morning light streaming through the wide windows of the airport. 

Techno couldn’t help but grin at the sight. 

He really didn't give a shit about soulmates, but his friends… he fucking loved his friends.

That didn’t stop him from laughing at Wilbur’s sleep deprivation though.


End file.
